


Living Meat in Lost Creek

by NotALemon



Series: A Two-Man, One-Angel Operation (Supernatural Rewritten) [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Rewrite, Dean Winchester Being Horny on Main, Episode: s01e02 Wendigo, Established Gabriel/Sam Winchester, M/M, Protective Gabriel (Supernatural), Sam Winchester Being an Asshole, Sam Winchester's Nightmares, Those Ceiling-Burning Nightmares Sam Gets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:21:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22870024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotALemon/pseuds/NotALemon
Summary: “I dunno. But the way I see it, Dad’s givin’ us a job to do, and I intend to do it.” Dean taps the front of John’s journal before putting it back into his pocket.Sam looks down at his hand, covered in Gabriel’s small ones. “Dean… no. I gotta find Dad. I gotta find the son of a bitch that tried killing Gabe. It’s the only thing I can think about.”Dean sighs. “Okay, alright, Sam. We’ll find them. I promise.” He touches Sam’s shoulder. “Listen to me. You’ve gotta prepare yourself. I mean, this search could take a while, and all that anger-- you can’t keep it burning over the long haul. It’s gonna kill you. You gotta have patience, man.”
Relationships: Gabriel/Sam Winchester
Series: A Two-Man, One-Angel Operation (Supernatural Rewritten) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1643980
Comments: 3
Kudos: 139





	Living Meat in Lost Creek

Sam collapses into his bed, eyes closed, wondering where Gabriel is. Something hot drips onto his forehead. He touches it and opens his eyes, brow wrinkling in confusion. 

There’s Gabriel, pinned against the ceiling, staring down at Sam, eyes wide and glossy like the dead.

“No!” Sam yells.

Gabriel bursts into flames, the heat nearly scorching Sam’s body from the intensity. Sam has to shield his face from the molten warmth pouring from Gabriel, acting more like water than fire.

“No! No!” Sam yells to the ceiling, horror coursing through his body, burning him like the flames that burn through Gabriel, that roast his angelic vessel the same way they roasted his mother. 

Gabriel opens his mouth and shrieks in horror as he’s burnt alive. Howls of pain, ripping from his chest primally--

Sam snaps awake, arm hitting the window. He shakes his head, blinks, rubs his eyes. Then he whips around to look at Gabriel, check that he’s alive. There he is, obnoxiously pink DS in hand and the stick of a sucker sticking from his mouth, eyebrows raised. Dean looks over at Sam, concerned.

“You okay?” Dean asks.

Sam glances at him, then back at Gabriel. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he mutters, looking out the window at last. His eyes flick back to Gabriel’s reflection in the glass.

“No, you okay?” Dean continues.

“Nightmare?” Gabriel asks. 

“Just-- it’s nothing.” Sam shrugs.

Gabriel reaches out to rest his hand on the back of Sam’s seat. “It didn’t happen,” he reassures Sam.

“Just what the hell do you know that I don’t?” Dean asks, irate at being left out of the loop. 

“It’s _nothing_ ,” Sam repeats, bitchily. He looks at Gabriel over his shoulder.

Dean sighs, turning Foreigner down. “If I’m gonna be workin’ with the two’a you, I gotta know things, okay? You can’t just keep your secrets.”

“You sure ‘bout that, Dean-O? ‘Cuz I specifically remember you telling us that you don’t wanna hear about us--”

“Sam, if you don’t shut him up, I’m leavin’ his feathery ass on the side of the road, and he’s gonna have to walk to-- where’re we goin’?”

Sam shakes his head. “Blackwater Ridge.”

“I don’t walk. I fly, pretty boy,” Gabriel says, sliding the sucker from his mouth and holding the sphere of candy between his lips. He casts a glance at Sam, more concerned than sultry.

“He’s gonna have to _fly_ his ass to Blackwater Ridge if he keeps this shit up,” Dean says. He glares at Gabriel in the rearview. “Now, spill. I gotta know ‘bout this shit.”

Sam grabs a map from the glovebox, unfurling it. Blackwater Ridge is marked clearly in red Sharpie, an **X 35-111** bold against the greens and blues of the map. “It’s weird, man,” he says. “The coordinates he left us. This Blackwater Ridge. There’s nothing there. It’s just woods.”

Dean sighs from his nose, annoyed at Sam dodging his questions.

“So the question is: _why’s daddy sending us to the middle of nowhere?_ ,” Gabriel says, pointing at nothing in particular with the end of his sucker. 

“Bingo,” Sam says. He glances over his shoulder at Gabriel again, eyes flickering all over his face to take him in. The part of his brain still clouded by his nightmare doesn’t want to believe that Gabriel’s still alive; the logical part says _he’s right here, idiot_.

Dean drives past a sign on the side of the road. _Welcome to LOST CREEK_ , it reads, in the block letters that road signs do. In smaller text, it says: _COLORADO National Forest_.

They end up at the Ranger Station at Lost Creek Trail.

“So Blackwater Ridge is pretty remote,” Sam says, looking at a 3D map of the national forest, paying particular attention to the ridge labeled _BLACKWATER RIDGE_. Gabriel stands at his side, not paying as much attention to the map as he is to Sam. Dean, in typical Dean fashion, is dicking around, looking at the decorations. 

“It’s cut off by these canyons here. Rough terrain, dense forest, abandoned silver and gold mines all over the place.” Sam points at the ridge, jabbing up from the rest of the map.

“Sharp eye,” Gabriel remarks fondly. “So, about your dream--”

“Can we… not? Not now?”

“Oh, sure,” Gabriel says. “We can just put it off ‘til later, when your brother forces it out of you. How long d’you think that’s gonna take?”

Sam sighs, avoiding Gabriel’s eyes by keeping his attention firmly on BLACKWATER RIDGE on the map. “That’s not important.”

“I think it’s pretty damn important.” Gabriel shrugs. “But what do I know? It’s not like I’m some sort of divine creature or something.” He elbows Sam’s side, not quite able to get his ribs without stretching at a weird angle. 

“It doesn’t--”

“Dude, check out the size of this freaking bear,” Dean says.

Sam looks over at Dean, who’s pointing at a framed photo of a man standing behind a frankly ginormous bear. Sam comes to stand next to Dean, leaving Gabriel to stray behind him.

“A dozen or more grizzlies in the area,” Sam continues, as if nothing had just happened between him and Gabriel. “It’s no nature hike, that’s for sure.”

A Forest Ranger walks quietly behind them, making no noise. “You boys aren’t planning on going out near Blackwater Ridge by any chance?” he asks. Sam and Dean whip around to face him, startled. Gabriel smirks at them.

“Oh, no, sir, we’re environmental study majors from UC Boulder, just working on a paper.” He laughs a little, the sound tinged with half-fake, half-real nerves. Gabriel crosses his arms and watches him.

“Recycle, man.” Dean raises his fist with a little smile.

The Ranger squints at them. “Bull,” he says, boldly.

Sam’s eyes flick to Dean. Dean doesn’t move. Gabriel raises an eyebrow.

“You’re friends with that Haley girl, right?” the ranger continues, accusatory.

After a quick moment of consideration, Dean nods. “Yes. Yes, we are, Ranger--” he checks the ranger’s name tag-- “Wilkinson.”

Ranger Wilkinson appraises them. “Well, I will tell you exactly what we told her,” he says, irate. “Her brother filled out a backcountry permit saying he wouldn’t be back from Blackwater until the twenty-fourth, so it’s not exactly a missing persons, now is it?” He pays particular attention to Dean as he speaks.

Dean shakes his head.

“You tell that girl to quit worrying. I’m sure her brother’s just fine,” Ranger Wilkinson dismisses. 

“Well will,” Dean promises. “Well, that Haley girl’s quite a pistol, huh?” he asks.

Gabriel reaches out to twine his fingers with Sam’s, eyes still locked on Sam.

“ _That_ is putting it mildly,” Wilksinson agrees.

Dean considers for a moment. “Actually,” he begins, “you know what would help is if _I_ could show her a copy of that backcountry permit.” He does a little shrug. “You know, so she could _see_ her brother’s return date.” Dean tries looking sincere. He raises his eyebrows under Wilkinson’s judgemental gaze.

They leave the ranger station, Dean holding a piece of paper and laughing. Gabriel swings his and Sam’s hands where they’re connected as they walk.

“What, are you cruising for a hookup or something?” Sam asks, a little more irate than usual from exhaustion.

“What do you mean?” Dean asks.

“The coordinates point to Blackwater Ridge, so what are we waiting for?” Sam asks. “Let’s just go find Dad. Go find yellow eyes. I mean, why even _talk_ to this girl?”

They stop at the sides of the Impala. Dean gives Sam a particularly bitchy look. “I don’t know,” he says. “Maybe we should know what we’re walking into before we actually walk into it?”

There’s a pause, the tension hanging between Sam and Dean. Gabriel looks between the two of them. He squeezes Sam’s hand.

“What?” Sam asks, to both of them.

“Since when are you all _shoot first, ask questions later_ , anyway?” Dean asks.

“Don’t be a dick,” Gabriel says.

Sam turns away, letting go of Gabriel’s hand and ducking into the car. He leaves Gabriel and Dean to look at each other blankly.

“ _Really_?” Dean asks.

Gabriel shrugs.

“What the hell’s goin’ on?”

“That ain’t mine to tell, Dean, and you know it,” Gabriel says. “He’ll tell you when he’s ready.” With the sound of wings fluttering, he’s in the backseat of the Impala, talking quietly to Sam.

Dean shakes his head at them and goes around the car.

-

They stand at the door to the house that belongs to Haley Collins, the sister of Tommy, the kid that’s gone missing. Gabriel stands too close to Sam, not holding his hand for the sake of _professionalism_. The door opens to reveal a tired-looking woman, Haley, through the screen door. She looks a little annoyed at the interruption. 

“You must be Haley Collins,” Dean says. “I’m Dean, this’s Sam, and that’s Gabriel. We’re, ah, rangers with the Park Service. Ranger Wilkinson sent us over. He wanted us to ask a few questions about your brother Tommy.”

Haley hesitates, refusing to open the screen door separating them. “Lemme see some ID,” she says, skeptical.

Dean pulls out a fake ID for Samuel Cole and holds it against the screen, Dean’s picture stamped onto the side. Haley inspects the ID, then looks at Dean, who smiles. She opens the door, still a little cautiously.

“Come on in,” she says. As the door opens, she glances at the Impala, raising her eyebrows. “That yours?”

“Yeah,” Dean says, proudly.

“Nice car.” Haley turns to lead them into the kitchen. Dean looks at Haley, eyebrows raised, then looks to Sam, mouthing out _babe_. Sam rolls his eyes.

In the kitchen, there’s a teenage boy at the table working on a laptop. Haley goes over to mess with something on the stove. 

“So if Tommy’s not due back for a while, how do you know something’s wrong?” Sam asks.

Haley takes a pot off the stove, walking over to the table with it before placing it down. “He checks in every day by cell. He emails, photos, stupid little videos-- we haven’t heard anything in over three days now.”

“Well, maybe he can’t get cell reception,” Sam suggests.

“He’s got a satellite phone, too,” Haley says.

“Could it be he’s just havin’ fun and forgot to check in?” Dean suggests, paying more attention to Haley than the conversation.

“He wouldn’t do that,” Ben says, defiant. He looks away when Dean eyes him.

Haley puts more food on the table, a couple of pots of nice-smelling, homemade food. “Our parents are gone,” she says. “It’s just my two brothers and me. We all keep pretty close tabs on each other.”

Gabriel swallows and nods. Sam lightly nudges his side. Gabriel shrugs at him.

“Can I see the pictures he sent you?” Sam asks.

“Yeah.” Haley picks up her laptop and pulls up some pictures of a young man in a puka shell choker, the poor lighting making his face fuzzy. “That’s Tommy,” she explains, clicking twice to show them more pictures of Tommy camping in Blackwater Ridge. Then she pulls up the still frame opening the latest video. 

Tommy, sitting inside a canvas tent, grins at the camera. “Hey Haley. Day six, we’re still out near Blackwater Ridge. We’re fine, keeping safe, so don’t worry, okay?” He smiles reassuringly. “Talk to you tomorrow,” he promises. Behind him, a humanlike shadow flicks back for one frame, maybe two. 

Dean clears his throat. “Well, we’ll find your brother,” he promises. “We’re headin’ out to Blackwater Ridge first thing.”

“Then maybe I’ll see you there,” Haley says. “Look, I can’t sit around here anymore. So I hired a guy. I’m heading out in the morning, and I’m gonna find Tommy myself.” Her voice holds determination.

“I think I know how you feel,” Dean says.

“We’ll find your brother,” Gabriel promises, not a trace of humor in his voice.

“Hey, do you mind forwarding these to me?” Sam asks.

“Sure,” Haley replies. It’s not clear who she’s agreeing to.

-

In the same fashion as always, they all find themselves in a bar. There’s always an empty table, always a bartender willing to fill beers, always a game of pool to hustle. 

“So, Blackwater Ridge doesn’t get a lot of traffic. Local campers, mostly. But still, this past April, two hikers went missing out there. They were never found.” He opens John’s journal, flipping through it with one hand, and rubs Gabriel’s knuckles with his thumb on the other hand.

“Any before that?” Dean asks.

Gabriel snaps up some newspaper articles to show Dean. Sam’s eyes hold admiration when he looks at Gabriel.

“Earth to Sammy,” Dean says.

Sam shakes his head. “Uh. In 1982, eight different people all vanished in the same year. Authorities said it was a grizzly attack.”

 _The Lost Creek Gazette_ ’s headline boldly reads _**GRIZZLY BEAR ATTACKS!**_. Beneath that, the subheading continues: _UP TO EIGHT HIKERS VANISH IN LOST CREEK AREA. HIKERS DISAPPEARANCE BAFFLES AUTHORITIES_. The text reads: _Families continue search and rescue efforts in spite of disappointing--_.

Sam pulls out his laptop, as sleek as he could get on a college student’s budget. “And again in 1959 and again before that in 1936.” He opens the laptop, a window already open to Tommy’s video. “Every twenty-three years, just like clockwork. Okay. Watch this. Here’s a clincher,” Sam says. “I downloaded that guy Tommy’s video to the laptop. Check this out.” He swivels the laptop to show the video to Dean, going through three frames at a time, the weird shadow crossing the screen.

“Do it again,” Dean says.

Sam repeats the frames. “That’s three frames. That’s a fraction of a second. Whatever that thing is, it can _move_.” 

“Not a human,” Gabriel says. “Daddy didn’t wanna make you guys that fast. _I_ thought it woulda been hilarious. Guess that’s why He let me make the platypus.”

“You made the platypus?” Sam asks, intrigued.

Dean hits Sam’s arm. “Told you somethin’ weird was goin’ on.”

“Yeah,” Sam says, remembering that someone’s gone missing. He can ask about platypi later. He closes the laptop. “I got one more thing,” he says, sliding out another newspaper article from beneath the first one. “In ‘fifty-nine, one camper survived this supposed _grizzly attack_. Just a kid. Barely crawled out of the woods alive.” 

Dean looks at _The Lost Creek Gazette_. “Is there a name?” he asks.

-

That’s how they end up at Mr. Shaw’s house. The old man’s smoking a cigarette as he leads the men through his small house. “Look, ranger, I don’t know why you’re asking me about this. It’s public record. I was a kid. My parents got mauled by a--”

“Grizzly? Is that what attacked them?” Sam asks, polite but direct.

Shaw takes a puff of his cigarette, takes it from his mouth, and nods. 

“The other people that went missing that year-- those bear attacks, too?” At the pause hanging between them like Shaw’s cigarette smoke, Dean continues. “What about all the people that went missing this year?” Another pause, pungent with nicotine. “We knew what we were dealing with, we might be able to stop it,” Dean says.

“I seriously doubt that.” Shaw sits at his table. “Anyways, I don’t see what difference it would make.” He takes another drag from his cigarette. “You wouldn’t believe me. Nobody ever did.”

Sam sits across from Shaw, his face open and inquizitive. Gabriel rests his hand on the back of Sam’s chair. “Mr. Shaw, what did you see?”

Shaw pauses at that, taking Sam in. “Nothing. It moved too fast to see. It hid too well.” His voice held a sort of hushed terror, the scars from his childhood healed over but still present. “I heard, it, though,” he said, still quiet. “A roar. Like… no man or animal I ever heard.”

“It came at night?” Sam asks.

Shaw nods.

“Got inside your tent?” 

“It got inside our cabin,” Shaw corrects. “I was sleepin’ in front of the fireplace when it came in. It didn’t smash a window or break the door. It _unlocked_ it.” Shaw’s eyes are wide, still scared after all these years. And who wouldn’t be? “Do you know of a bear that could do something like that? I didn’t even wake til I heard my parents screaming.” His eyes cloud over with the memories. 

“It killed them?” Sam asks, rapt.

“Dragged them off into the night.” Shaw shakes his head. “Why it left me alive… I’ve been askin’ myself that ever since.” He pauses, the past overtaking him for a moment. His hands go to his collar. “Did leave me this, though,” he says, opening up his collar to reveal three long scars clawing down his torso, the only physical evidence of the encounter all those years ago. “There’s somethin’ evil in those woods. It was some sort of a demon,” he says, convinced.

They don’t talk about it until they’re walking down the hallway of their motel. 

“Spirits and demons don’t have to unlock doors,” Dean says. “If they want inside, they just go through the walls.”

“So it’s probably something else. Something corporeal.” Sam looks over to Gabriel, checking that his theory is correct. 

“Hittin’ it right on the head, Sammich.” 

“Corporeal?” Dean asks. “Excuse me, professor. Some’a us use normal words.”

“Shut up,” Sam says. “So what do you think?”

“The claws, the speed that it moves… could be a skinwalker, maybe a black dog. Whatever we’re talkin’ ‘bout, we’re talkin’ ‘bout a creature, and it’s corporeal. Which means we can kill it,” Dean says.

-

In the parking lot, Dean fills up a duffel bag with the contents of the Impala’s gnarly weapons box, propped open with a shotgun in typical Dean Winchester fashion. 

“We _cannot_ let that Haley girl go out there,” Sam says.

“Oh yeah?” Dean asks. “What are we gonna tell her. That she can’t go into the woods because of a big scary monster?” His voice holds sarcasm as he slides guns into his duffel.

“Yeah,” Sam says.

Dean looks at Sam, squinting at him in disbelief. “Her brother’s missing, Sam. She’s not gonna sit this out,” he says, bitchily. “Now we go with her, we protect her, and we keep our eyes peeled for our fuzzy predator friend.” He picks up the duffel bag, sufficiently happy with the amount of weapons within.

“Fuzzy,” Gabriel snorts.

“Finding Dad’s not enough?” Sam asks, slamming the weapons box shut, then the trunk. “Now we gotta _babysit_ , too?”

Dean stares at Sam, almost disbelievingly, then looks to Gabriel as if Gabriel holds all the answers to his brother’s behavior. When Gabriel says nothing, he sighs.

“What?” Sam asks.

“Nothin’,” Dean replies, throwing the duffel bag at Sam and storming off. Sam stares after him, looking at Gabriel for answers.

-

The forest doesn’t look particularly foreboding in the daylight. It looks like a typical Colorado forest, full of pines and other evergreens. Maybe inviting, even, everything a welcoming green color. Bring out your family or romantic partner for a nice hike, maybe a picnic. That’s what Sam and Gabriel would be doing at Lost Creek Forest, if not for John and the supposed grizzly attacks.

The Impala pulls up to Haley, Ben, and some other guy, all in shorts and hiking boots, outfitted with full packs. Dean climbs out of the car and heads towards them. Gabriel and Sam retrieve the duffel bag from the backseat.

“You guys got room for two more?” Dean asks, almost friendly.

“Wait, you want to come with us?” Haley asks, disbelieving.

“Who are these guys?” the new guy asks, looking Dean up and down. 

“Apparently this is all the park service could muster up for the search and rescue,” Haley says, slightly venomous.

Sam and Gabriel head past everyone, Sam irritable and tired.

“You’re rangers?” the guy asks. He’s skeptical. Seems the type.

“That’s right,” Dean says, nearly proudly.

“And you’re hiking out in biker boots and jeans?” Haley scoffs. 

Dean looks down at himself, his typical clothing choice practical for hunting but not exactly fit for hiking. “Well, sweetheart, I don’t do shorts,” he says to her, heading past her. 

“What, you think this is funny? It’s dangerous backcountry out there. Her brother might be hurt,” the guy calls after Dean.

Sam turns back to watch them.

“Believe me, I know how dangerous it can be. We just wanna help them find their brother, that's all.” Dean heads past Sam and Gabriel, a little petulant. 

\- 

The group hikes through the forest, The guy, Roy, leading, Dean to his side, Haley and Ben behind them, and Sam and Gabriel bringing up the rear, quietly talking to each other.

“Roy, you said you did a little hunting,” Dean says, trying to keep it casual.

“Yeah, more than a little.” Roy has an air of haughtiness to him.

“Uh-huh,” Dean says, more than pissed off about Roy’s attitude. “What kind of furry critters do you hunt?”

“Mostly buck, sometimes bear,” Roy responds. 

Dean passes him. “Tell me, uh, Bambi or Yogi ever hunt you back?” Dean asks, like an asshole. 

Roy grabs Dean. 

“Whatcha doin’, Roy?” Dean’s irate at this.

Roy grabs a stick from the brush and pokes at the spot Dean nearly stepped on seconds before. A bear trap snaps closed around the stick. Haley looks annoyed.

“You should watch where you’re stepping. Ranger,” Roy warns, suspicious. He takes the head once more.

“It’s a bear trap,” Dean says, continuing to hike after Roy. Haley catches up to him.

“You didn’t pack any provisions,” she says, sharply and annoyed. “You guys are carrying a _duffel_ bag. You’re not rangers,” she accuses. She grabs Dean’s arm and stops him. “So who the hell are you?”

Ben walks past them. Sam looks at Dean, who jerks his head forward in a _go ahead_ that Sam obeys, continuing forth with Gabriel. Dean watches them go until he’s sure that they’re out of earshot. 

“Sam and I are brothers, and we’re looking for our father. He might be here. We don’t know. I just figured that you and me-- we’re in the same boat,” Dean says. 

“And Gabriel? Or is _he_ the actual ranger?” Haley narrows her eyes at Dean, still disbelieving. 

“He’s… Sam’s boyfriend.” Dean shoves his hands into his pockets. “And his dad’s kinda… gone AWOL, too. In a way. Not the greatest family situation, if you’re, uh, catchin’ my drift. We’re just lookin’ for ‘em, and… we understand what you’re goin’ through.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me that from the start?” Haley sounds exasperated.

“I’m tellin’ you now,” Dean says. “‘Sides, it’s probably the most honest I’ve been with a woman.” He pauses, thinking it over. “Ever. So we okay?”

There’s a pause between them, the sound of the forest around them filling the space.

“Yeah, okay,” Haley says, a bit of skepticism still tinting her voice. 

“And what do you mean I didn’t pack provisions?” Dean asks, pulling out a big, crumpled yellow bag of peanut M&Ms and taking out a handful as he hikes on. Haley waits a moment before she follows him, fighting off a nearly-fond smile at Dean’s antics.

After several hours of hiking, Roy announces that they’ve reached Blackwater Ridge. 

“What coordinates are we at?” Sam asks.

Roy pulls out a GPS. “Thirty-five and minutes one-eleven.”

Dean comes up to Sam. The two of them listen to the forest around them, quietly.

“You hear that?” Dean asks.

“Yeah,” Sam agrees. “Not even crickets.”

“For a while,” Gabriel adds. “There’s something _really_ wrong ‘bout this place, boys.”

“I’m gonna go take a look around,” Roy announces to the group.

“You shouldn’t go off by yourself,” Sam says, carefully.

“That’s sweet. Don’t worry about me.” Roy waves his gun at them, showing it off, and pushes between the three to retake the lead. Dean turns back to the others as Ben and Haley catch up to the group.

“Alright, everybody stays together,” Dean says. “Let’s go.”

They continue through the eerily-silent Blackwater Ridge, looking around near a large rock. 

“Haley!” Roy yells from out of view. “Over here!”

Haley runs towards Roy’s voice, followed by the others, then stops. “Oh my God,” she breathes, horrified.

In front of them, the tents are torn open and covered in blood, the supplies scattered about the scene. It looks like a murder scene, like a tornado of knives has torn through the clearing, or like a grizzly walked through.

“Looks like a grizzly,” Roy observes.

Dean and Haley look around the bloody campsite. 

“Tommy?” Haley asks, against hopes. She takes off her backpack and goes through the ruined campsite. “Tommy!” she yells, searching through the tatters. 

Sam moves to catch up with her, Gabriel following him. “Shh,” he says.

“Tommy!” 

Sam shushes her more harshly.

“Why?” Haley asks, horror filling her voice as she looks at the ruins. 

“Something might still be out there,” Sam warns, quietly.

“Sam!” Dean calls from somewhere in the forest. Sam goes over to Dean, sticks snapping in his wake. Gabriel moves quietly, not making a single noise as he walks behind Sam. They crouch next to Dean. “The bodies were dragged from the campsite. But here, the tracks just vanish. That’s weird.” He points at the ground, the line where the bodies were dragged in the dirt abruptly ending, as if they vanished.

They stand. “I’ll tell you what, that’s no skinwalker or black dog,” Dean says. He goes back to the campsite. 

“What do you think it is?” Sam whispers to Gabriel.

“Something bad,” Gabriel says. “Something _really_ bad. Look-- no tracks, right? Just the bodies. Which means…” Gabriel shakes his head. “Nothing good.”

“And her brother--?”

Gabriel breathes in. “I have a theory. Buck-ass wild.”

“I’m sure it’s not. You’re smart.” Sam kisses the top of Gabriel’s head, the soft hair brushing against his face. 

“You flatter me,” Gabriel says. He leads Sam back to the campsite. 

Haley’s crying as she picks up Tommy’s cellphone, bloody but still potentially operational. She turns it over to see the back is opened, a deliberate action. Dean crouches next to her.

“Hey, he could still be alive,” Dean suggests. 

Haley gives him an intense, tearful glare. Dean inhales sharply.

A man screams for help from the forest, crying out for _somebody_ as they run to his aid, trampling the underbrush and avoiding trees. But when they arrive at the source-- nothing.

Haley looks around, nearly in shock. “It seemed like it was coming from around here, didn’t it?” she asks, unsure that she heard what she had.

They go silent to listen to the nothingness around them. The silence is off-putting the same way that a barren highway is.

“Everyone back to camp,” Sam commands quietly. He reaches out for Gabriel’s hand.

The walk back to camp isn’t as rushed as the walk there, but far more foreboding without any screaming, the silence smothering like a woolen blanket. Back at the campsite, all their supplies were missing, as if they’d never been there in the first place.

“Our packs!” Haley exclaims.

“So much for my GPS and my satellite phone,” Roy mutters.

“What the hell is going on?” Haley asks Sam and Gabriel.

“It’s smart. It wants to cut us off so we can’t call for help.” Sam speaks quietly, nearly reverent of the creature hunting them down.

“You mean _someone_ ,” Roy corrects dismissively, more than fed up with Sam and Dean’s bullshit. “Some nut job out there just stole all our gear.”

Gabriel nudges Sam’s side. “We need to talk,” he says.

Sam walks up to Dean. “We need to speak with you. In private,” he whispers to Dean. They all walk off into the forest a little further from the rest of the group. “Good. Let me see Dad’s journal,” Sam says. Once Dean gives it to him, he hands it to Gabriel.

“You didn’t tell me _he_ was gonna use it,” Dean mutters.

“Don’t worry. I know everything in this journal, and then some.” Gabriel flips through the journal until he finds the page he’s looking for, then shows it to Sam and Dean, a drawing of a figure prominently featured on the page.

“Oh, come on,” Dean protests. “Wendigos are in the Minnesota woods, or-- or northern Michigan. I’ve never even heard of one this far west.” He still doesn’t look away from the page. 

“No, wait. Think about it, Dean,” Sam says. He looks at the page, reading some of the text. “The claws, the way it can mimic a human voice.” Sam wraps an arm around Gabriel’s shoulders. Gabriel settles against the touch, against his side. 

“Sometimes things don’t migrate when the world changes. Some things don’t want to move when it all heats up.” Gabriel rubs his thumb over Sam’s knuckles. “Some things aren’t as adaptable as me.”

“Great,” Dean mutters, taking out his pistol. “Well then, _this_ is useless.”

Gabriel hands John’s journal to Sam, who then gives it back to Dean. They head past Dean, then stop for a moment. “We gotta get these people back to safety,” Sam says.

Once they return back to the campsite, Sam addresses the group, raising his voice for the first time that day. “Alright, listen up. It’s time to go. Things have gotten… more complicated.” 

Haley looks at him like she doesn’t understand him. “ _What_?”

“Kid, don’t worry,” Roy says, with the same amount of cocky bravado he’s possessed for their entire endeavor. “Whatever’s out there, I think I can handle it.”

“It’s not _me_ I’m worried about,” Sam says, irritation creeping into his quiet voice. “If you shoot this thing, you’re just gonna make it mad. We have to leave. Now.”

“One, you’re talking nonsense. Two, you’re in no position to give anybody orders,” Roy says.

“Don’t be an ass, Roy,” Gabriel says loudly, as he steps in front of Sam.

“Relax,” Dean says, in the same way you tell a dog _heel_.

“We never should have let you come out here in the first place, alright? I’m trying to protect you.” Sam steps out from behind Gabriel and stands next to him instead.

Roy steps into Sam’s space, making himself a little taller than necessary in an attempt to intimidate him. “ _You_ protect _me_? I was hunting these woods when your mommy was still kissing you goodnight,” he spits.

“Yeah?” Sam asks, allowing himself to get in Roy’s face right back. He always slouches, wanting to be less intimidating than being 6’4 forces him to be, but now, he pulls himself to a decent height and announciates his words. “It’s a damn near perfect hunter. It’s smarter than you, and it’s gonna hunt you down and eat you alive unless we get your stupid, sorry ass out of here.” A bit of smugness creeps into Sam’s voice, alongside his irritation with the situation and Roy himself. 

Roy laughs. “You know you’re crazy, right?”

“I’m gonna have to ask you not to talk to him like that,” Gabriel says, trying to wedge himself between Roy and Sam. Sam, standing at his full height, is far taller than Gabriel has any hopes to be, something we won’t admit to loving. “Don’t be an asshole, okay?”

“Your boyfriend isn’t gonna protect you,” Roy says. “And _you_ sure as hell aren’t gonna protect _me_.”

“Yeah? You ever hunt a wen--”

Dean shoves Sam and glares at Gabriel. “Chill out.”

“Oh, I’m not gonna let some _human asshole_ mess with _my_ \--”

“Roy!” Haley yells, pissed off at everyone. “Stop. _Stop it_. Everybody just _stop_. Look. Tommy might still be alive. And I’m not leaving here without him.”

There’s a long pause, tension still in the air.

“It’s getting late,” Dean says. He fixes his jacket collar. “This thing is a good hunter in the day, but an unbelievable hunter at night. We’ll never beat it. Not in the dark. We need to settle in and protect ourselves.”

“How?” Haley asked, not a note of hopelessness in her voice. Instead, there’s determination.

Dean painstakingly draws symbols in the dirt around the campsite as the sky grows darker. Gabriel snaps his into existence. Sam starts a campfire as the darkness falls around them and walks off to the edge of camp.

Haley pokes at the fire. “One more time, that’s--?”

“Anasazi symbols,” Dean explains, finishing one up. “It’s for protection. The wendigo can’t cross over them.” 

Roy laughs, a gun slung over his shoulder. 

“Nobody likes a skeptic, Roy,” Dean calls. He heads over to sit next to Sam and Gabriel at the edge of the campsite. They’re sitting on the ground, Gabriel leaning against Sam’s side, one hand laced with Sam’s, the other clasped around the other side. “You wanna tell me what’s going on in that freaky head of yours?” he asks Sam.

Sam avoids Dean’s eyes. “Dean--”

“No, you’re _not_ fine. You’re like a powder keg, man. It’s not like you. _I’m_ supposed to be the belligerent one, remember?” Dean tries to keep his voice lighthearted and a little jokey, but the topic drags it down. 

“Dad’s not here,” Sam mumbles. “I mean, we know that much for sure, right? He would have left us a message, a sign... right?” He looks at Dean, desperate.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. Tell you the truth, I don’t think Dad’s ever been to Lost Creek,” Dean admits.

“Then let’s get these people back to town and let’s hit the road. Go find Dad. I mean, why are we still even here?” Sam asks. 

“ _This_ is why.” Dean holds up John’s journal. “This book. This is Dad’s single most valuable possession. Everything he knows about every evil thing is in here. And he’s passed it onto us. I think he wants us to pick up where he left off. You know, saving people, hunting things. The family business.” Dean’s using the rousing voice he does when he tries to convince Sam to do something he doesn’t want to, like go to the dentist as a child or accept that they have to move again. In another life, Dean could’ve been a public speaker. In another life, Sam could’ve lived with Gabriel happily, without having to fight monsters.

Sam shakes his head. “That makes no sense. Why doesn’t he just-- call us? Why doesn’t he-- tell us what he wants, tell us where he is?”

“I dunno. But the way I see it, Dad’s givin’ us a job to do, and I intend to do it.” Dean taps the front of John’s journal before putting it back into his pocket. 

Sam looks down at the hand Gabriel’s holding. “Dean… no. I gotta find Dad. I gotta find the son of a bitch that tried killing Gabe. It’s the only thing I can think about.”

Dean sighs. “Okay, alright, Sam. We’ll find them. I promise.” He touches Sam’s shoulder. “Listen to me. You’ve gotta prepare yourself. I mean, this search could take a while, and all that anger-- you can’t keep it burning over the long haul. It’s gonna kill you. You gotta have patience, man.”

Sam looks down, then back up at Dean. “How do you do it? How does _Dad_ do it?”

Dean looks over at Haley and Ben, talking quietly amongst themselves. “Well, for one, them.” He watches them for a second. “I mean, I figure our family’s so screwed to hell, maybe we can help some others. Makes things a little bit more bearable.” 

“You know,” Gabriel says, speaking up for the first time since Dean has sat on the ground with them. “I don’t wanna tell you guys a sob story ‘bout my family and all, but… my daddy’s been deadbeat since a little after he put the whole divine plan into action. Some of my siblings have been chasing after him ever since he left.”

“God, Sammy, you found a real gem, didn’t you?”

“Daddy issues attract daddy issues,” Gabriel says, wisely. 

Dean shakes his head. “I’ll tell you what else helps,” he continues. “Killing as many evil sons of bitches as I possibly can.”

That makes Sam’s mouth quirk into a smile.

In the distance, a twig snaps. “Help me! Please!” a man yells from the forest. “Help!”

Dean stands and readies his gun, just in case he needs to use it. Sam mirrors him, shining his flashlight. Gabriel stands behind them. 

“You know you’re not gonna find anything,” he mutters.

“He’s trying to draw us out. Just stay cool. Stay put,” Dean commands. He steadies his gun.

“Inside the magic circle?” Roy mocks. 

“Help! Help me!” the man screams, followed by a horrible, inhuman growl. 

Roy points his gun at the sound. “Okay, that’s no grizzly.”

“It’s okay,” Haley says to Ben, who’s gone pale and horrified, breathing ragged. “You’ll be alright, I promise.”

Something rushes past, the wind making more sound than the sticks on the ground or the underbrush. Haley shrieks.

“It’s here,” Sam announces, grimly.

Roy shoots at the rustling, what might be the loudest sound in the world, then again, splitting the quiet into a million pieces. “I hit it!” he announces, stepping over the symbols to see what he hit. 

“Roy, no! Roy!” Dean calls after him. He turns to Haley and Ben. Haley’s already holding a burning stick, torch-style, as a weapon. “Don’t move,” Dean instructs. Dean and Sam run after Roy.

“Dad dammit, Sam!” Gabriel yells, disappearing with the rustle of wings. 

“It’s over here!” Roy calls out. “It’s in the tree!” 

Before anyone can save him, the Wendigo reaches from the tree and snaps Roy’s neck with a single, swift motion.

“Roy!” Dean yells. 

-

In the relative safety of the daytime, Sam sits with his back against a hollow tree stump, Gabriel by his side. They pour over John’s journal, Sam playing with a lanyard used as a bookmark. Dean’s with Haley and Ben among the tents.

“I don’t… I mean, these types of things-- they aren’t supposed to be real,” Haley says, disbelieving. 

“I wish I could tell you different,” Dean says with the resignation of someone who genuinely wishes that they _could_ tell her differently.

“How do we know it’s not out there watching us?” Haley looks around the forest, cautious and scared.

“We don’t,” Dean says. “But we’re safe. For now.”

“How do you know about this stuff?”

Dean considers telling her a lie for a moment, looking off into the forest. “Kinda runs in the family,” he says, which is the truth.

Sam comes over, Gabriel by his side. Sam looks exhausted and a little frazzled. “Hey,” he says. Haley stands. “So, we’ve got half a chance in the daylight. And I, for one, want to kill this evil son of a bitch.”

“Well, hell, you know I’m in,” Dean says.

Sam shows the wendigo page of the journal to Haley and Ben, speaking in quiet, tired tones. “‘Wendigo’ is a Cree word. It means _evil that devours_.”

“They’re hundreds of years old. Each one was one a man. Sometimes a native, other times a frontiersman or a miner or hunter.”

“How’s a man turn into one of those things?” Haley asks.

Dean digs through his duffel bag, picking up a can of lighter fluid, a bottle of beer, and a piece of white cloth, tucking what he can in his jacket pockets. “Well, it’s always the same. During some harsh winter, a guy finds himself starving, cut off from supplies or help. Becomes a cannibal to survive, eating other members of his tribe or camp.”

Gabriel flinches sympathetically.

“Like the Donner Party,” Ben comments, in his quiet voice. 

“Cultures all over the world believe that eating human flesh gives a person certain abilities. Speed, strength, immortality…” Sam looks at the page. 

“If you eat enough of it, over years, you become this-- less than human thing. You’re always hungry.”

Haley processes all this and swallows. “So if that’s true, how can Tommy still be alive?”

Dean glances at Sam, then back at Haley.

“Tell me,” Haley commands, voice shaky.

“More than anything, a wendigo knows how to last long winters without food. It hibernates for years at a time, but when it’s awake, it keeps its victims alive. It, uh, _stores_ them, so it can feed whenever it wants. If your brother’s alive, it’s keeping him somewhere dark, hidden, and safe. We gotta track it back there.”

“Okay,” Haley says, still almost a little disbelieving. “Just-- what is he?” Haley gestures to Gabriel.

Gabriel gives her a casual wave. “Hi. The archangel Gabriel,” he says. 

Haley blinks at him, then shakes her head. “This-- wendigo, I mean, I can believe _that_ , but you’re _the_ archangel Gabriel?”

“Trust ‘im on that,” Dean says. 

Gabriel snaps his fingers, summoning a sucker, and shrugs. “Dunno. You tell me.”

“This is--” Haley shakes her head again. “The wendigo-- how do we stop it?”

“Well, guns are useless,” Dean says. “So are knives. Basically--” he holds up the objects he’d taken from his duffel bag, the can of lighter fluid, beer bottle, and white cloth-- “we gotta torch the sucker.” He grins.

-

As the group treks through the woods, they travel past trees with claw marks and blood marked on them, almost cartoonishly clearly. Sam calls Dean up to where he and Gabriel lead the group. They look at the trees, at the bloody claw marks, broken branches, and other signs of the wendigo in the woods.

“You know, I was thinking. Those claw prints, so clear and distinct.” He touches one of the trees. “They were almost too easy to follow.”

The wendigo growls its uncanny growl, rumbling and rustling the trees around them with its intensity. Haley stands under a tree, looking around for a sign of the wendigo. Blood drips down onto her shirt. When she notices and looks up, she leaps out of the way just in time. Roy’s corpse lands in the space she’d just vacated, bloodied and mangled. 

Dean moves over to examine Roy while Sam goes over to Haley. 

“You okay? You got it?” Sam asks her. She nods, a little hysterical and still on the ground.

“His neck’s broke,” Dean announces.

Sam helps Haley off the ground. The growling continues, intensifies. 

“Okay. Run, run, run, run! Go, go, go!” Dean yells. Everyone takes off, running from the wendigo and its terrible growls. Ben falls. Sam and Gabriel hurry back to help him up, cleaving the group into two parts. 

“Come on. I gotcha, I gotcha,” he says, allowing the boy to lean against his side while he adjusts to standing up.

Dean and Haley stop, the wendigo standing in front of them. Haley’s screams pierce the air.

“Haley?!” Ben asks, pulling away from Sam’s side.

Sam runs over to where Dean and Haley once were, picking up Dean’s Molotov cocktail, bottle shattered. “Dean!” 

-

“If it keeps its victims alive, why would it kill Roy?” Ben asks, shaking just a bit.

“Honestly? I think because Roy shot at it, pissed it off,” Sam responds.

“If someone shot at _me_ , I would probably smite that bastard, too.” Gabriel snaps up another sucker. 

“Not now,” Sam says. 

Ben walks around, kicking through the underbrush, when he finds something brightly-colored that doesn’t belong. He bends down, picking one up. It’s a peanut M&M. 

“They went this way,” Ben announces.

Sam catches up to Ben, who presses the M&M into his palm. Sam laughs. “It’s better than bread crumbs,” he says, tossing it behind him.

The trail of M&Ms is surprisingly easy to follow, almost unnaturally clear. Gabriel makes a couple comments about _wasting candy_ that Sam gives him a particular brand of bitch face for saying. They come to a mine entrance marked with a beat-up sign that says _WARNING! DANGER! DO NOT ENTIRE EXTREMELY TOXIC MATERIAL_. Sam looks at Ben and Gabriel, shrugs, and goes inside. Gabriel and Ben follow. Above the entrance is a larger, more distressed, and more ominous sign that reads _KEEP OUT NO ADMITTANCE_.

In the darkness of the mine, Sam shines his flashlight ahead of them. Growling rumbles through the mineshaft. Sam shuts off the flashlight and pulls Ben against the wall with one arm and Gabriel with the other. The wendigo comes towards them. Ben’s breathing gets harsher, then he inhales sharply. Sam lets go of Gabriel to cover Ben’s mouth before he can scream. The wendigo takes a different tunnel. After breathing a sigh of relief, they continue on. The floorboards creak, and Sam and Ben fall through the floor, landing in a pile of bones. Ben sees a pile of skulls and leaps backward.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay.” Sam’s voice is soft and gentle. He grabs Ben and holds him close. 

With the soft sound of feathers and wings, Gabriel appears next to them. Sam gives him a little glare. 

“Hate to interrupt your Halloween-inspired porno, but I think there’s something important here,” Gabriel says.

Sam and Ben look up to see Dean and Haley hanging by their wrists from the ceiling, in ropes. Their faces are battered and bloodied, grimy from the time spent in the mine waiting to be devoured. 

Sam runs to his brother. “Dean!” he calls.

Ben goes to his sister. “Haley!”

“ _Jeez, thanks Gabe, we can always count on your awesome observational skills_ ,” Gabriel mutters to himself in a voice as he meanders over to Sam. “Wow, you’re so welcome. I really _am_ a great angel, aren’t I?” 

Sam grabs Dean and shakes him hard. “Dean!” When Dean opens his eyes, Sam tries to check him for a concussion in the dim light. “Hey, you okay?”

Dean winces. “Yeah,” he mumbles. 

“Haley. Haley, wake up! Wake up!” Ben begs. 

Sam starts cutting Dean down. When he’s done, he hands the knife to Ben, letting him do the same. Sam helps them both down onto the ground. Dean winces and makes pained noises.

“You sure you’re alright?” Sam asks.

Dean grimances. “Yeah. Yep. Where is he?”

“He’s gone, for now,” Sam says. 

Haley stands up and spots Tommy still hanging by his wrists, looking dead. She begins crying, reaching out to touch her brother’s bloodied, grimy cheek, jumping back with a shriek when Tommy’s head jerks up. “Cut him down!” she yells at Sam.

Gabriel snaps, and the ropes supporting Tommy disappear. Haley struggles to hold up her brother, a grown man, and Ben has to help her support their brother. “We’re gonna get you home,” Haley reassures Tommy.

In the corner, the stolen supplies are arranged in a pile. Dean limps his way over to them and picks up flare guns. “Check it out,” he says.

“Flare guns. Those’ll work.” Sam grins.

Dean laughs and twirls the guns. 

“Ooh, how Clint Eastwood of you,” Gabriel comments. 

They head down a tunnel, the three of them in the lead with their flare guns and Haley and Ben supporting a limping Tommy. 

The growling echoes through the confines of the mine shaft. 

“Looks like someone’s home for supper,” Dean says.

“We’ll never outrun it,” Haley says, still wincing in pain with her steps. 

Dean looks back at the others. “You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?” he asks.

“Yeah, I think so,” Sam replies. 

“Alright, listen to me,” Dean instructs the rest of the group. “Stay with Sam. He’s gonna get you out of here. Gabe-- do whatever the hell it is that angels do.”

“What are you gonna do?” Haley asks, exhausted and concerned.

Dean winks and starts walking, yelling all the time. “Chow time, you freaking bastard! Yeah, that’s right! Bring it on, baby! I taste _good_!” His taunts echo off the mine walls, getting more indistinct as he charges through the mine. “Hey, you want some white meat, bitch! I’m right here!”

Sam waits until Dean is a safe distance away. “Alright, come on! Hurry!” he urges the Collinses, leading them to safety. 

The growling follows them. Sam points the gun at it, then lowers it to turn to the Collinses. 

“Get him outta here,” he tells Haley.

“Sam, no,” Haley begs, though she’s exhausted.

“Go! _Go_! Go!” Sam yells.

“Come on, Haley!” Ben urges, helping Haley drag Tommy along the mine tunnel, hobbling as a unit.

Sam holds the flare gun ready to shoot, looking down the tunnel with his back against the wall. Gabriel stands next to him, eyes closed, focusing. 

“Come on,” Sam mutters. “Come on.”

More growling; louder growling. Sam turns to see the wendigo, pale and bone-thin, its atrociously-bent bones nearly jabbing out of its stretched skin, teeth jutting from its mouth. He shoots the flare gun. It misses. Then Gabriel wraps his arms around Sam and flies them over to the Collinses. 

“Sam!” Haley yells. “Gabe!”

“Always _Gabe_ second,” Gabriel mutters, running after Haley and her brothers. 

“Come on, hurry, hurry, hurry,” Sam urges.

They run to the tunnel’s end, the Wendigo right behind them, growling and grotesque. 

“Get behind me,” Sam tells the Collinses. He’s big enough to hide all three of them. Then short Gabriel stands in front of him, wings unfurled in dark shadows against the darkness. 

The wendigo approaches, taking its time to close in. Gabriel’s eyes glow in a way that something that fears fire would find menacing.

“Hey!” Dean says, coming up behind the bent-over, disfigured shape of the wendigo. It turns to face Dean, who shoots a flare into its stomach. It goes off.

The wendigo catches fire like a dry forest, melting quickly like plastic and gooey like the inside of a marshmallow, bits of its flaming body splattering onto the mine tunnel’s grimy ground. It screams long, drawn-out shrieks of pain as it melts away.

Dean steps around the puddle of melted wendigo flesh. “Not bad, huh?”

Sam grins. 

-

Gabriel flies them to the Ranger Station. Sam calls for an ambulance. Dean and the Collinses rest in the Impala until the ambulance gets there. 

While the EMTs load up Tommy in the ambulance, two police officers interview Ben, with Sam and Gabriel standing behind him. 

“And the bear came back again after you yelled at it?” the officer asks, writing down details on his notepad. 

“That’s when it circled the campsite,” Ben says, a good storyteller. “I mean, this grizzly must have weighed eight hundred, nine hundred pounds.” He gestures with his hands, though on a much smaller scale than in reality, the sheer size of this alleged bear. 

Sam nods along. Gabriel hums in agreement.

“Alright, we’ll go after it first thing,” the officer says.

Haley and Dean, both of whom have been decently patched up, bandages and ointments and EMTs going _some bear, huh?_ , talk off to the side, illuminated by the red-and-blue flashing lights.

“So I don’t know how to thank you,” Haley says.

Dean smirks lasciviously. Haley smiles despite herself. 

“Must you cheapen the moment?” Haley asks.

Dean pauses to consider it. “Yeah,” he says.

A paramedic comes up to Haley. “You riding with your brother?” she asks.

“Yeah,” Haley agrees. 

The paramedic heads back to the ambulance. Haley turns to Ben. “Let’s go,” she says.

Sam and Ben nod at each other, the bond that only people who have been through a lot in a couple nights can possess. Haley kisses Dean on the cheek.

“I hope you find your father,” Haley says, before she and Ben head for the ambulance holding Tommy. “Thanks, Gabe, Sam,” she says, to the taller brother and his boyfriend. She and Ben climb into the ambulance with Tommy, shirtless and bandaged up in the gurney.

Sam and Gabriel join Dean on the Impala’s hood.

“Close her up,” another paramedic says. A third closes the ambulance doors.

“Man, I _hate_ camping,” Dean mutters.

“Me, too,” Sam says.

“What, you can’t appreciate the wonderful world my dad made?” Gabriel asks, leaning against Sam’s side.

“God.” Sam pushes Gabriel a little. Gabriel chuckles and gets even closer to him.

The shrill yell of sirens sound as the ambulance drives away. 

“Sam, you know we’re gonna find Dad, right?”

“Yeah, I know,” Sam says. “But in the meantime? I’m driving.”

Dean tosses Sam the keys. “Hope you’re not gonna make me sit in the back,” he says.

Sam looks to Gabriel.

“I need the space to stretch out, Deanie. Untwist your poor panties.” 

They get in the car, slamming the doors almost in sync. Sam turns the key in the ignition, Rush playing as he starts the car and drives off.

**Author's Note:**

> Here she is, very similar to the original episode. I swear the more I move on in this series, the more original things I'll put in. I just really love Sabriel and third-wheel Dean. But when will we get Sam/not being an asshole to others just because he's in a bad mood, perhaps the most lusted-after ship of all time? That's the real question.


End file.
